The Dreams That Dream Me

from the land of dreams in the misty island. Or, alternatively, from the flat above a shop on the Kentish Town Road, amidst the shouts of the midnight drunks and the police sirens.

Tuesday, August 24, 2010

Downstairs again and again

We went downstairs when we heard the noise of the train arriving. It was my old house in Catia, this was just not possible. There was a train line running through it and a platform In the corridor. We knew what was to happen next, all of this had happened before. The Nazis and their demon masters would get off the train and round up the people in the lower floor of the house and take them away. We would not be caught, or at least we never had been caught in al, the innumerable times this had happened before, but you never knew whether a small kink in the fabric of reality, if reality this was indeed, would change this. What could be worse, to be forever trapped in this absurd cycle or to break it to find ourselves in the hands of our enemies?

There were shouts downstairs, doors being kicked in. I went upstairs trying to keep a low profile, whispered to B to keep her head down and not make any noise. She didn't seem to be aware or remember the many times we'd been through this, or perhaps it was all just weariness...

Closer boot steps. Maybe this time they would come upstairs. Where to to, there was the roof but that offered no protection. There would surely soon be helicopters above us. I looked at her, she was looking at me biting her lip, anxious. An alarm siren broke out somewhere....

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